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"THE YANKEE ABROAD" 

(copyright, I 9 I 7, BY JOHN N. CHESTER) 

This poem by Eugene Field was written at 
the time of his visit to London in February, 
1890, and is indorsed in Field's handwriting, 
"Never published." So closely has the man- 
uscript been guarded since the author's death 
that up to the present time very few persons 
are aware of its existence. The original man- 
uscript (herein reproduced in facsimile, pre- 
cisely the same size as originally written) is 
owned by one of our members, Mr. John N. 
Chester, of Pittsburgh, who has kindly consented 
to allow a few copies to be issued to the mem- 
bers of The Bibliophile Society. 

It is singularly appropriate that this MS. 
should have come to light at a time when 
patriotic feelings have been stirred by our par- 
ticipation in the present world-wide war. 



[3] 



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THE YANKEE ABROAD 

Though one may be sure 

Of a sense he's secure 

So long as his record be open and pure, 

It is better to be 

Both honest like me 

And born of the home of the brave and the free. 

For, go where 1 may 

In my wandering way, 

I give little heed to whatever folks say; 

And wherever 1 am, 

I don't care a 

For I know I'm a nephew of Old Uncle Sam! 

If sometimes I choose 
To meander the rues 

Where Johnny Crapeaud a la mode parley- voos, 
My wild wooly way 
Is regarded au fait, 

And seldom I deign to remark "see voo play;" 
When they caper and smile, 
(Though intent, all the while, 
In wheedling the stranger unused to their guile), 

[5] 



I see through the sham, 

But I don't care a 

Would you, if a nephew of cher I'Oncle Sam? 



I've bragged of my home- 
In the Kremlin's dull dome^ 
The meetin' house rounds have 1 traversed in 

Rome; 
In Spain have I seen 
What we need to keep clean — 
They make it, not use it (it's soap that I mean I ) ; 
I've squandered a fund on 
The bookshops in London 
The "banks" and the "brays" of the Scotch 

have 1 punned on — 
Yet so loyal I am 

That I'd not give a 

For all as against our dear Uncle Sam! 

This stomach of mine 

Has been warmed with the wine 

That grows with the pretzel in realms of the 

Rhine; 
Been robbed of its ease 
By the compounds that please 
The Welchman addicted to rarebits of cheese; 
I've skated in Poland 
And waded Dutch lowland, 

[6] 



And yet I'm prepared to maintain there's no 
land 

You'd call worth a 

If you are (as / am) 

A patriot nephew of old Uncle Sam. 

Eugene Field 
London, Feb. 22, 1890. 



[7] 



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